


Of Flocks and Flowers Part 1: The Wise Black Cat

by TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone



Series: The Sorceress, The Witcher, The Bard and a Girl [12]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Black Cats, Dol Blathanna, Dove of the Morning, Lich Kings, Magic source, Multi, Portals, Resurrections, Source, Split the Party, The Endless - Freeform, The Nightingale, The Wolf - Freeform, Treehome, Valley of Flowers, Wall of Thorns, magic gone awry, near misses, the raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone/pseuds/TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone
Summary: The Liches are closing in, the Trio have a plan but things don't always go the way you want them to.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer
Series: The Sorceress, The Witcher, The Bard and a Girl [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584583
Comments: 17
Kudos: 88





	Of Flocks and Flowers Part 1: The Wise Black Cat

It was gloomy, the air hung thick with dust and cobwebs as the small cluster of black-robed figures hurried down the dimly lit corridor, their eyes flitting nervously back and forth from beneath their hoods.

She tripped and stumbled a few times, almost as much as the second person they were hurrying forward only she didn’t have a bag over her head nor was she tied at the wrists and ankles like the other person. No, she was naked and shivering, a metal ring around her neck with three long poles attached to it was her only adornment and it wasn’t a welcome one as the three people that were each holding a pole were nervous and often tripped for not looking where they were going. She was dirty, hungry, thirsty and so very, very tired. The girl snuffled and tried to brush some of her unkempt ash blonde hair off her face, she looked about miserably and whimpered.

The leader of the column, another attired in black, this one a tall man wearing a silver death mask, his eyes dark through the holes for them, “Hurry,” His deep voice was muffled slightly by the mask, “The moon’s zenith approaches, we cannot afford to falter now!”

“At once, Lord Oskrin!” One of the pole-bearers piped up and she gave her pole a jerk, “Come along, Dove, His Majesty awaits!”

“Quietly, Saraia, quietly, have some respect for the dead.” A second chastised but they all laughed under their breath.

The girl hurried to keep up, glancing furtively back where they’d come and at the prisoner stumbling behind them. They finally stopped at a massive, gilded round door, it had a gigantic ruby set in the center and there were precious stones ringing it in intricate patterns, the gold inlaid with silver, platinum, copper and pewter. In comparison to the rest of the trek in the deep dark, this was dazzling and almost overwhelming to look at as the gems glittered in the torchlight.

The masked man snorted, “King Wallace of the Blue Mountains, enslaved dwarves to mine for him then he hoarded all the gold like a dragon, built a tomb and killed anyone who knew where to find it. The Gilded Tyrant, they called him . . . the first of the Pact, the first of the Court of the Dead to rise . . . shall we?”

Several of the gathered ran about pushing on specific gems in a complex order until they glowed while a chant started and there was a monstrous grinding sound that set the girl’s teeth on edge and made her ears itch, she stepped back only to be pushed forward as the round door rolled out of the way and a groaning rush of air hit them, it smelled of decay, of rot, of death . . . she did not want to go in there but had no choice as she was dragged after them.

Within the antechamber was a massive throne that resembled the door, in fact the entire room would have shown like a sun with how much gold and jewels could be seen under layers of dust and cobwebs but the potential beauty of the room was lost on the gruesome sight before them. The throne was in the center, surrounded by bodies that clearly died unexpectedly, many twisted and with dark stains on dusty, threadbare clothes, and seated on the throne, was a corpse, it looked to be belted in but one arm was hanging limply with the belt on that arm unfastened, suggesting that the person had done the belts themselves, the knife jutting out of the neck suggested this was done then the person killed themselves. The girl’s eyes adjusted and she could make out the figure, wearing bloodstained gilded armor tarnished with age, long black shrouds and hood with a broken golden crown and a solemn, cracked deathmask. In front of the throne was a depression in the floor, it was here that the other prisoner was pushed to their knees while the masked man stepped forward and took a silver bangle off his wrist and spun it in the air, muttering under his breath until the bangle spun on its own suspended in the air and it gave off a low, rasping moan.

“King Wallace of the Blue Mountains, rise forth, fulfill your pact and join your brethren!” Oskrin of Skilige intoned.

The captive’s throat was slit and he was set to bleed into the depression, the blood was pulled into little channels toward the throne where suddenly the corpse creaked, the head fell forward on its neck, the belts and knife holding it up creaking and the blade clattered to the ground as it slipped free, no longer held fast by sinew and flesh. The girl whimpered as the corpse seemed to sway its head and shudder then the head was thrown back and there was a loud shriek, the eyes of the mask bursting open and a bright red glow emitted from the holes. The Lich King ripped the belts apart and rose to his feet, roaring loudly.

There was the sound of marching feet, horse hooves and the howling of dogs as the Lich moved toward them and that was when the girl saw it. Under the Lich’s neck, the strap holding the jaw shut was new, the leather still lightly colored and that was when things began to freeze around her and Ciri remembered who she was and more importantly, who the Lich was, the same one that had chased her down a mountain, the same one that caught her in dreams and screamed so horribly at her . . .

The Lich bent to be eye-level with her, so close that Ciri could smell the dull, dusty stench that clung to the undead. King Wallace brought his face close to hers and she could see that the glow in his sockets came from activated rubies the size of small apples resting within each and softly glowing like twin embers. Nothing moved around them, all was still, not as if they were being intently watched but as if everyone had turned to stone on the spot.

He chuckled and it was a terrible sound  **_. . . Did you enjoy . . . watching my rebirth? . . . we will make a deal . . . with you . . . come to us . . . willingly . . . and we will not kill . . . your birds . . . the wolf . . . come to us alone . . . and we will . . . not harm them . . ._ **

Ciri’s wide eyes flitted about, trying to find escape, “N-No!”

They weren’t in the tomb any longer, it was a grotto where light reflected off water somewhere, casting undulating shimmers that danced on the rough-hewn rock walls. They weren’t alone but it wasn’t humans in black robes but corpses in shrouds. Ciri wanted to back away but there was nowhere to go, she was surrounded by eleven lich kings- . . . wait . . . eleven . . . ?

**_. . . you see . . . we are almost . . . complete . . ._ **

Ciri wanted to scream as bony, armored hands slid over her naked shoulders and gripped her tightly.

The liches all turned their heads toward her and they advanced on her a step.

King Wallace laughed and suddenly it was foggy and the ground under her feet was damp and grassy  **_. . . Look, Dove . . . look about you . . ._ **

The fog shifted and swirled suggesting that it was not natural and Ciri saw the city of Vizima as if from a great height. She swallowed then turned and behind her were legions upon legions of dead men, some mounted, all armed. There were scores of hounds padding on skeletal paws between the unmoving, silent ranks.

King Wallace turned Ciri to face him again  **_. . . we will . . . raze the city . . . if you . . . do not surrender . . . None shall be spared . . ._ ** He leaned down again and held up a hand, extended a finger and let something hang off it, a chain with a ring on the end, the ring was set with a large, discolored and misshapen stone. He held it out to her  **_. . . dropped this, didn’t you? . . . This is a dream . . . but I will call to you . . . you will give your answer . . . and you will decide . . . if some might die . . . or if all will . . . pleasant dreams, Dove . . ._ **

His malicious, rasping laughter echoed about as everything faded to black.

* * *

Ciri’s eyes slowly opened, she didn’t sit upright or scream or even sigh, she slowly got up and went out of her room. She wandered slowly about the city, still early enough that hardly a stray cat was awake at this hour. Ciri’s feet led her up the city wall to the battlements. She leaned against the ramparts and stared out at the fog that was rolling in. She thought about her dream, she thought about the pros and cons of any decision she made and she started to cry because it seemed so hopeless and she was so frightened by the dead men that seemed to be never ending . . . 

The sun was starting to creep above the land and the fog parted slightly, intentionally and if one was meant to, they would see three Lich Kings and four black-robed figures, one wearing a silver skull mask, standing as if waiting for something.

Ciri glared at them and very nearly wanted to scream at them, throw stones and hurl abuse at them. She wanted to yell that she wasn’t afraid! That she wasn’t alone! She had a Sorceress, a Witcher and a Bard protecting her and they were the bravest, strongest and best parents! She had love and goodness and truth on her side! She had life and dreams and hope! Ciri reached into her shirt and pulled out a chain with a ring on the end, she glared at it and put it back, no, no more of this nonsense, “I’m a Witcher,” She muttered, turning and running back inside the temple where they had been staying, “And I can explode heads and maybe I can do other things too! I can fight, I can ride, I can do anything! I’m the daughter of a Witcher and a Sorceress and a Bard, I’m an impossibility in the flesh!” She kicked open her parents’ bedroom door, “Papa! Yen! Jask! Wake up!”

Jaskier squawked and threw a pillow over himself and kicked Geralt off the bed while Yennefer glared at them both and reached for her dressing gown, “Ciri, what are you yelling about and don’t burst into rooms like that! Good way to get scarred for life!”

Geralt’s hand appeared, scrabbling about on the bed until he grasped his trousers and pulled them over the side, “What is it, Cirilla?”

“They’re here.” Ciri had clapped a hand over her eyes the second she realized her mistake and her cheeks pinked in embarrassment.

“Who?” Jaskier asked, also scrambling about for something to wear, pillows were, after all, out of fashion.

“The Lich Kings, they’re right outside.” Ciri said softly, surprising herself with her calm.

“What?” Yennefer turned in alarm.

Geralt’s head appeared over the side of the bed and he struggled to stand and get his belt done up, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean they found us, they’re out there and they . . . “ Ciri's lip shook and she had to fight to keep being brave, “They were in my dreams again . . . “

The three adults were silent and looked at each other, Geralt swallowed and nodded slowly, “Ciri, we’re decent.”

She dropped her hand and swallowed, “They’re going to kill everyone if . . . if I don’t go out to them . . . “

Geralt’s eyes darkened and he was pleased to see Yen and Jask look equally menacing at the notion, “No.”

“Obviously,” Ciri rolled her eyes, “Or I wouldn’t be standing here telling you, but I won’t go. We’re stronger together, right?”

“Right, time for us to go. We know where we need to be, Dol Blathanna, We can get away, the day is still early.” Jask said, he started to move about grabbing their things, “Ciri, go get your things ready to go, we’ll all meet downstairs in the stables.”

Yennefer glared at the massive slab in the corner, “. . . no time for another, can’t take that with us . . . what a fucking  _ waste _ !”

Ciri nodded and hurried off, Geralt stood there and despite the situation, he had to smile slightly. She was afraid but she was keeping her head, that was good. He glanced at Jaskier then pulled him away from his task of shoving his things into a bag.

“Hey, we don’t have time for suchmmmph!” Jask huffed into the kiss but wrapped his arms around the Witcher’s neck anyway and popped a foot.

Yennefer rolled her eyes in amusement, “We have undead armies and kings breathing down our necks and yet your libido is still top priority. Typical.”

Geralt broke the kiss and held Jask there for a moment then sighed, “We’ll finish what we started later. I promise.”

“I hope so, we just got Ciri to start sleeping in her own bed . . .“ Jaskier pouted.

“Patience, my dandelion,” Geralt murmured, “Patience.”

“I don’t do ‘patience’.” Jaskier muttered.

* * *

Ciri had her sword and her cloak just in case it rained and the damp was rather uncomfortable, she was tacking up her pony, Dove when Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer appeared, “About time, you three! We have to go!”

“Dove stays behind,” Yennefer said apologetically at the look on the girl’s face, “I’m sorry, Ciri, but we’re fleeing, she won't be able to keep up. We arranged a regular horse for you.”

Ciri blinked and her eyes welled with tears as she undid Dove’s girth strap and pulled the saddle back off, “Oh . . . “

Jaskier grimaced and he and Geralt exchanged looks, the bard lead a dappled gray gelding up to Ciri, already saddled, “Here you are, m’lady, he’s a bit leggier than your former mount but he’s even tempered and very fast.”

Ciri hugged Dove’s neck, murmured her goodbyes then climbed up into the new horse’s saddle, the stirrups were adjusted to her height and she took the reins, “It’s alright, she’ll be alright, she’s a strong, fine pony.”

“That she is.” Geralt agreed.

They were leading their horses to the gate and out into the fog which had . . . gotten thicker somehow despite the sun climbing in the sky . . . Ciri bit her lip and gripped her new horse’s reins, whom she named Bones for no real reason, she looked at her travel companions and saw they were equally as grim and suspicious. She was about to clear her throat and ask them a question when her ring started to shake and she saw it glowing faintly against the fabric of her shirt. Ciri’s eyes widened as the only people that had a ring linked to hers was Geralt and Yennefer and they were both in front of her with Jaskier behind but her ring was his that he tried to throw away so-

**_. . . Cirilla . . . Cirilla . . ._ **

Ciri hesitantly put the ring on her thumb, licking her lips and she stared at the glowing stone.

**_. . . wrong answer, Cirilla . . ._ **

Ciri ripped the ring from her finger and threw it but she didn’t even get to cry out in warning before something shot through the fog, knocked her off her horse and started to drag her into the mist. She screamed in fear as Bones danced and bolted and then she looked down and screamed louder. A skeletal hound had her by the boot and was trying to drag her back, her fingers dug into the dirt and she heard the trio shouting as suddenly the fog swarmed and roiled.

Geralt drew his sword and threw himself off Roach toward Ciri but Yennefer was faster with a bolt of magic that burned the boney dog and turned it to ash. Jaskier was also dismounting but three shadow skulls hit him in the back and he was sent sprawling. Yennefer had to wheel Aderon around and the horse danced away just as a mounted Lich rode at her with a spear in his hand.

Ciri panted and staggered to her feet, she drew her sword and ran toward Jaskier who had managed to shatter and stab three of the skulls, their fragments littering the ground around him, “JASK!” She screamed and hurried to swing at a hound that was going for the bard’s legs, she chopped the creature’s muzzle clean off with a forward smash then twisted her sword and did a backward sweep to cut the head off, her arms trembling from the shock and the grating of metal on bone made her teeth clench.

Jaskier panted and tipped an imaginary hat, “Thank you, m’lady! Come here and cover my back, we have to get back on our horses!”

Ciri was trembling, her sword was heavier then she remembered and she couldn’t breathe as there were faces everywhere, dead faces with gaping eye sockets and missing jaws. Bursting out of the fog and shadows making those terrible screaming sounds. Ciri was shaking and her sword clattered to the ground, “J-Jask . . . !”

Jaskier froze and turned, seeing her standing with her hands outstretched, her face fighting with itself and he quickly moved back to her, crouching to hold her shoulders, “Hey, hey, shh, Ciri, come on, we’re going to be alright! Come on, now’s not the time for us to lose our courage! Come on!” He was so frightened by what was happening that he could feel his own eyes welling with tears. He was going to vomit or pass out if this kept up and then . . . then . . . Jaskier heard a voice in his head, somewhere in the back but he could hear it very clearly . . . 

_ “Sing, Nightingale, sing _

_ Your strength, your bond _

_ Sing it for her _

_ Bring forth the Morning!” _

Jaskier didn’t know why, he didn’t know what came over him but he locked eyes with Ciri and he knew what he had to do, as the chaos raged around them, the fog growing thick with spells and shrieks, apparently invisible to the outside world, he knelt on the ground and started to sing. 

Ciri didn’t question it as Jaskier’s voice filled her head, it was in Elder, she didn’t know all the words but that didn’t matter, nothing mattered as the world went quiet around them and all she could see were Jaskier’s blue eyes and hear his voice and she soon heard her own. Singing in Elder a song she didn’t know but the words came without pause or hesitation and something was happening. Ciri felt like there was something brushing over her fingertips, her scalp and the end of her nose, her eyes seemed to focus and see better.

Jaskier kept singing, he understood the language but the words made no sense and to his astonishment Ciri joined him and when she did, her eyes became a deep emerald green, sparking with power. He felt a surge of that power flowing through them.  _ Bring forth the Morning . . . Bring forth . . . I am . . . This is my destiny . . . I am the Nightingale . . . I teach the Dove to sing . . .  _ tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes and spilled over as the ground around them began to shiver and the power surged up from the dirt into Ciri.

Then Ciri screamed, but not with power, with terror.

Jaskier stopped singing as a bony hand clamped over his mouth then lifted him by his throat, he felt a strange itching in his back then a sword erupted from his belly. Jask blinked at it in confusion then it swiftly disappeared and a gush of scarlet shot out. The bard blinked as he was thrown to the ground on his side like an unwanted doll. 

Ciri shrieked then gurgled as King Wallace of the Blue Mountains lifted her up by her throat.

**_. . . One down . . . two to go . . . do you think they’ll . . . die as nicely . . . as your Nightingale?_ ** The Lich laughed hideously.

Jaskier sputtered and held his hand tightly to his stomach but he panicked as he saw it didn’t stop the flow nor did the warmth at his lower back cease spreading. He saw Ciri dangling by her throat and he started to try and crawl to her, **_No! Nonononono! We are NOT dying like this! We-We- . . ._ ** Jaskier realized that he was in fact dying, that if he didn’t get help very soon, he wasn’t going to see forty. 

Ciri’s eyes blazed green and she reached for the death mask, her face turning bright red as the flow of blood and air was being disrupted. She caught the edge and clung, she could see the ruby eyes of the Lich and she summoned the power, she tried to chant in her head the song Jaskier had tried to teach her and then, it happened.

King Wallace’s left ruby eye shattered, he screamed and threw her to the ground, kicking at her savagely with his metal boot and catching her in the back, sending her sprawling toward Jaskier. The Lich howled and screamed, clutching at his head, blinded.

Ciri regained herself and hurried to Jaskier, her hands hovering and shaking as she realized she wasn’t sure of what to do. She was saved the trouble as something behind her shimmered and she turned her head to see a portal open. Ciri didn’t think twice, she grabbed Jaskier and threw herself backward into it, tumbling through the magical doorway then it snapped shut behind them.

* * *

Yennefer’s portal opened then snapped shut after she received a nasty blow to the head and fell from her horse.

Geralt had been fighting his way to Jaskier and Ciri who for  _ some reason  _ had thought  _ now  _ was a good time for whatever pep-talk bullshit that was! Then he saw Jaskier fall . . . Geralt remembered screaming the bard’s name only to be cut off by several hounds . . . then the Lich had Ciri . . . then Ciri did something and the Lich was wounded . . . then Ciri and Jaskier disappeared. The Witcher stumbled, wounded and exhausted, shaking as his hastily knocked-back elixir started to wear off and he felt sick. He trembled and fell to his knees next to the unconscious Yennefer. He looked over where Jaskier’s blood still soaked the ground.

The wolf howled then fell over, passing out.

* * *

Jaskier had always assumed he’d die in a very comfortable bed with someone he’d met at a party. He thought he’d be very old and suddenly he had so many regrets. With blood dripping from his back and between his graying fingers, he thought of everything he’d ever done in his life, everywhere he’d ever gone . . . he had seen things only books would tell of, he’d sung and bedded his way across the continent and his list of new things to try was considerably short.

So what to regret?

The long list of women and men he’d thought he’d be happy with but then it became serious and then it felt  _ wrong _ , he felt caged and cornered so he fled. and not to mention the number of maids that came to him down the line, twisting their apron strings or bracelets or fans in their hands nervously before they said the words he feared more than anything. 

“I didn’t bleed.”

So many ways to say the same thing, and each time he would make promises then dart out a backdoor, a window, shimmy down a drainpipe, anything to escape.

**_I would have been a good father_ ** **.** Jaskier thought of this as he watched a girl with ashen-blonde hair sob and scream his name and beg him to keep his eyes open and all he could think about was:  **_it’s alright, Ciri, don’t cry my clever bodkin, my sweet girl, my little dove . . . don’t cry, shh . . . it’s alright, it doesn’t hurt . . . I’m so sorry . . . I don’t mean to leave you all alone like this . . ._ ** He stared at her and felt an overwhelming sense of regret and pain.  **_I’m so so sorry . . ._ ** __

Jaskier felt the itching and Ciri was crying and holding her hands against his wound since he couldn’t seem to do it anymore and her hands were so warm, they almost felt scalding.

Jaskier blinked slowly as he heard Ciri cry out and leap to her feet, she ran over to something and he lolled his head to the side, finally taking in their surroundings, it was a field of buttercups. Jaskier tried to chuckle,  _ Master Kingcup _ , Correy had called him . . . that’s . . . that’s _funny_ . . . 

Ciri was back in his line of sight talking rapidly then Jaskier saw the angular, delicate face of an elf before everything went black.

* * *

Yennefer came to with a scream of Jaskier’s name then she fell back on her pillows and moaned in pain, muttering a spell to alleviate her pounding head then froze when she felt cold yellow eyes on her, “Geralt?”

“Good, you’re awake,” Geralt murmured, he was bandaged under his unbuttoned tunic sitting on a stool in the corner, but seemed alright otherwise, his voice was cold and very shaky, “Yennefer, where did that portal go?”

Yennefer blinked at him and she swallowed slowly, “I . . . I sent them to safety . . . I saw Jask and-”

“ _ Where, Yennefer _ ?” Geralt snarled, he stood up from his stool in the corner and rounded on her.

“I thought to hell with the spells and opened a portal, it was as close as I could manage to Dol Blathanna, but-”

Geralt’s teeth were showing as his lips curled in an angry snarl, “So,” His voice was bristling with some unrecognizable emotion, “What I’m hearing is that Jaskier, who was gravely and probably  _ fatally  _ wounded is now somewhere near or in the Valley of Flowers with a child that is being hunted by an undead army?”

Yennefer didn’t answer as tears rolled down her face then she slowly opened her mouth, “I wasn’t planning on getting bashed in the head.”

Geralt didn’t say anything at first either and when he did, his voice was strained and tight, “She’s alone now then-”

“Don’t  _ say  _ that!” Yennefer got out of bed and went to the window, “Jask-”

“Is probably dead, Yen!” Geralt shouted and his breath caught in his throat and he sank to the floor, staring at the floor, “ . . . He . . . He’s gone . . . “

“Stop it, Geralt!” Yennefer snapped hoarsely, “Stop it!”

Geralt covered his face with his hands and slowly lowered his head until his forehead was pressing into his knees and the wolf howled.

* * *

Death was hot and muggy.

Jaskier’s eye cracked open slowly, then snapped shut at how bright everything was before tentatively trying again.

“[He’s coming to.]”

“[I see that, what do we do with him and the girl?]”

“[You saw what she did, you tell her to go.]”

“[He’s staring at us.]”

“[Might I have some water?]” Jaskier croaked.

The elves looked at him in shock, one was dark, female and had long curling locks and dark eyes while the other was also female but that’s where the similarities ended, the other was fair and had blue eyes, they stared at him before the blonde one rose to retrieve a skin of water. She pressed it to his lips and he drank greedily.

“You understand Elder?” She asked softly in common, her accent thick.

“I do. Fluently, in fact.” Jaskier mumbled, letting his head fall back, “The girl-”

The she-elf nodded to her companion, “Zuri, let her know he’s alive.”

The other, Zuri, nodded and hurried out of the small hut that Jaskier could see they were in. The elf that was not Zuri looked back at him, “She almost nearly had you healed, I’m not sure what kind of magic she wields but you would have died for sure if she hadn’t been . . . doing whatever it was she was doing.”

Jaskier didn’t answer until there was a cry and suddenly Ciri was in front of him, hugging his neck as he sat up, putting his arms tightly around her, “Ciri! Oh, my Cirilla! My girl . . . I’m so sorry, I frightened myself too. Don’t cry, I’m here, I’m alive, shhshh my dear.”

Ciri’s sobs were so powerful that she couldn’t make a sound as she clung to him then leapt back in alarm, “Oh! I didn’t h-h-hurt you d-di-did I?”

Jaskier blinked then thought for a moment, “Hm, no, I seem to be alright . . . what happened?”

Ciri hurriedly explained that they were somewhere near Vengerberg’s Northern border and that the portal had dumped them almost literally on the doorstep of Zuri and Merris, the two elves who were at that moment, sitting together watching the pair curiously, warily. 

Jaskier blinked at them then sighed, “I’m terribly sorry for the blood and thank you so much for your help, I-”

“Go.” Zuri said, pulling Merris into her arms and staring at Ciri, “You are welcome and now you need to go, she reeks of death.”

Ciri looked down and Jaskier slowly, carefully got to his feet, he still felt tender and was definitely going to he taking it easy for a bit but everything felt alright. He regarded the elves then nodded, “Thank you for your hospitality and [may the sun shine on you], good day.” He took Ciri’s hand and led her out of the hut, “Well, that was rather anticlimactic wasn’t it?”

Ciri stood staring at Jaskier, “ . . . Jask?”

“Mhm?” Jaskier looked around, frowning deeply as he tried to get his bearings while ignoring how absolutely ruined his favorite robin’s egg blue frock was.

“You’ve been sleeping for four days.” She whispered, “I couldn’t get in touch with Yen or Papa and-”

“So,” Jaskier interrupted, turning to the East, “We are looking for a Ballious the Archive, let’s hope the name is a coincidence because Balious the Bogtrotter is one ugly son of a dog.”

“Jask-” Ciri tried again.

“A living oak bole, hmm that should be easy to spot-” Jaskier glanced about.

Ciri stopped walking and tugged his arm, “Jask, please listen to me!”

Jaskier stopped and turned to her, squeezing her hand, “I know, Ciri, I do, They probably think I’m dead and- . . . and I can’t help with that. We know where we need to go and who we need to talk to so that’s what I have to focus on. We can do what we can to let Geralt and Yennefer know I’m fine and you’re alright but . . . I don’t know what else to do, I almost died and now I have to keep you safe and moving.” He reached out stroked her cheek with the other hand, 

Ciri nodded slowly, “I hope they made it out alright.”

“Oh I’m sure they’re fine.” Jaskier shrugged, he looked around, “We are a fair pace from our destination though . . . let’s see if we can make it to someone that will help us.”

* * *

Another bottle hit the floor and rolled away but Erik didn’t bother to pick it up, he’d wait until the field hands and laborers were through for the day. He looked up with mild interest as a two figures appeared in the open doorway. The first was a man with short brown hair and blue eyes, the second was a girl that kept close to him. The man strode to the bar with the girl keeping pace but still managing to keep almost plastered to his side.

“Good day to you, fine sir,” The man said as he leaned on the bar, “I’m looking for some information and mayhaps you can he-”

Ciri jumped away from something and gave a soft cry.

Jaskier turned and saw a rather swarthy, drunk individual chuckling to himself as he put his hand back on his drink, the bard heard him mutter ‘little goose for a little goose’ to his comrades who all laughed and Ciri blushed. Jaskier’s jaw tightened and he turned back to the barkeep, hoping to get them out of here as fast as possible before he caused an upset, “I’m looking for Ballious the Archive, do you-”

“Who, ol Balli that ugly bugger in that twisted ol’ treehouse?” The gooser laughed and his comrades also laughed, “He’s over there near the edge where there ain’t no elves to spit at him and no humans to bother him.”

Jaskier nodded slowly, making a mental note, “And, pray tell, which direction would one go to find said 'ugly bugger'?”

“East side o’ the border.” Gooser shrugged then his head listed sharply to the left and a tooth dropped out of his mouth from Jaskier’s fist making contact.

Jaskier shook out his hand and turned to the ‘keep, “Do you have lodgings?”

“We might have a room or two.” Erik glanced at the large and very knocked-out man then at Jaskier, “Nothing with one bed tho-”

“My daughter and I,” Jaskier said loudly over him, “Will take a two bedroom, thank you.”

“I meant no offense, sir,” Erik said quickly, fear of offending a potential customer who could knock out a man three times his size was obvious, “Only the little lady looks nothing like you is all . . . “

“Of course she does, same eyes.” Jaskier said off-handedly as he started counting out some coins.

“Nay, sir, your eyes are blue, hers are the deepest green I’ve ever seen.” 

Jaskier looked up but covered anything he thought with a laugh, "twas a joke, she resembles my late wife so heartbreakingly, you see? Poor thing died in a tragic fishing accident, terribly scarring for my girl and me! Now  _ about that room _ ?" He said rather pointedly, his smile tight and his heart was hammering in his chest.

"Right here, good sir," Erik spoke rapidly, probably afraid of offending paying customers or the bloodstains on Jaskier's frock as he moved his cloak to get his purse might have been the cause, "if you'd like we can accommodate a bath and our kitchen will be fired up for supper in a few fingers."

Jaskier counted out several coins, "Here, some credit for our stay. And a bath would be appreciated."

Erik the innkeeper nodded, eyes glittering at the sight of the coins that were dropped into his open palm and quickly shifted around to get a key out of a small chest, "Here you are, m'Lord, upstairs at the end of the way. I'll have the tub and water brought up presently."

Jaskier nodded and hurried Ciri upstairs, he hurried to unlock the door and they both collapsed on the bed to wait for their bathwater, "alright… so I have enough coin for us to stay here until we know what to do, I can get us a horse if needs must then on To- Ciri, what are you doing?"

The girl had gotten up and was squinting in the window, "My eyes, he said my eyes weren't- Jask, what color are they? And what happened in the battle? And what are we-"

Jaskier shed his cloak, noting that he needed a new tunic or something, he had two large holes in this one and it was rusty brown and crunchy with old blood, "hold on, one thing at a time. Firstly, yes your eyes are a very stunning green now, must be the magic and secondly …. " Jaskier blinked at her, swallowing thickly, "you saved me."

Ciri started to shake then she ran up and hugged him. Jaskier picked her up and carried her to the bed, sitting with her in his lap while she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, "J-Jask-"

"Shhshh my girl, shh, I'm here, I'm alright now… you," here he set her back a bit and wiped at her eyes, "are a  _ very  _ good luck charm. Look at you, doing weird magic things, thwarting a Lich, and saving people! First rate Witcher and Sorceress, I'd say!" He kissed her forehead and pulled her back into his chest, "oh my clever  _ clever  _ little bodkin." Then he broke down as the fear and exhaustion reached him, the reality of what had happened making him cling to her all the more.

Ciri ended up comforting him for a while then a pair of boys brought a large barrel-stave bath to their room followed by four more boys carrying steaming buckets of water.

"Alright, Ciri," Jaskier opened the door and shifted, "you get a bath in, I'll go see if I can get a clean, intact shirt, I'll lock the door behind me, sound like a plan?"

Ciri nodded and turned to the bath as the door closed behind her. She undressed and gratefully got in the steaming water. She sat in it for a bit to get used to the temperature. She had so much to process and think about… she had no idea where to begin beyond a smile that crept shakily across her face, she'd beaten back a Lich King and saved her Nightingale, but …

* * *

Jaskier sat on the back of the wagon, he bought a new shirt and had made a deal with a merchant to let them ride in the wagon until they reached the far end of Dol Blathanna. He glanced at Ciri, “Ugh, I’m bored, want to play a game?”

Ciri shrugged.

Jaskier grimaced and put an arm around her, “Or how about we discuss something else? For instance, if you look to your left, we’re approaching the valley.”

Ciri looked up curiously despite how tired and upset she’d been then she stood up in the wagon and pointed, “What is  _ that _ ?”

Jaskier looked around then exclaimed, “Ah! That’s where we are going! I think?” 

He knelt next to her and squinted against the bright sunshine until he could make out something very odd compared to the glorious, poetic beauty of the Valley of Flowers. It was a squat, ugly looking oak tree with several windows and a large round door set in the wood. There were no metal fixtures or fastenings on the door and the windows had no glass but had tiny branches with almost transparent leaves cluttering natural spaces to let light in. The tree itself was so big around the fat base that Jaskier thought they could fit the whole wagon inside with the horse included and so tall that it towered over the trees around it. The wood, despite its bloated appearance was free of creeping plants and lichens, the leaves were large and dark green, branches heavy with large acorns, many small animals were running around the base or up the trunk without paying attention to the two humans walking up. A squirrel ran up to Ciri, his fluffy gray tail flicking curiously before darting away, a fat brown rabbit made her way through a clover patch next to the door without flicking an ear toward them, a doe and her fawn nibbled at some wild strawberries hidden under some flowering bushes. Ciri’s mouth was open and her eyes were wide in wonder while she held Jask’s hand.

The bard’s eyes watered a bit at the stunning visual then he reached to knock but the door creaked open without prompting, there were no hinges and yet it swung in smoothly. Jaskier and Ciri shrugged and stepped inside, “Hello?” Jaskier called, the interior was fairly bright with bioluminescent mushrooms and fronds growing in clay pots, there was a stack of books next to an overstuffed armchair that’s wooden legs grew directly from the wooden floor, “Is anyone home?”

Ciri let go of Jaskier’s hand and wandered about curiously.

“We were asked to come here and . . . uh . . . hello?” Jaskier put his hands on his hips and frowned, “Perhaps we should wait?”

Ciri shrugged then smiled when she came to a large desk, also growing out of the floor, and curled on a pile of unrolled scrolls and quills was a thin, snoozing black cat, curled in a ball and slightly on his back so that his stomach showed, “Hello, puss!”

The cat opened its deep blue eye and meowed softly without opening his mouth, stretching a paw out toward her.

Ciri smiled and pet the cat’s back, “Oh, I wish we could have a cat, Jask, but they  _ hate  _ Papa . . . “

“Indeed. I suppose we should just sit and wait.” Jaskier sat in the chair gratefully and glanced at the stack of books, picking one up and smiling, “Oh, it’s one of mine! Well then! Ballious might be an ugly old monster but he has good taste!”

The cat’s eye opened wider and he stood up, stretching and Ciri screamed, jumping back from the cat as he sat upright, his head cocking. The cat’s face on the right was mostly alright, but on the left was a hideous stretch of boiled looking scars from the middle of his forehead, down the left side of his face, down his neck and across his chest and part of his shoulder. The ear on that side was melted to the side of his head and there was no fur on the skin and what was ringing the disfigurement was white, his eye there was white and drooped, the lid pulled tight and unmoving. His teeth were exposed because he had only part of his cheek, the gums and tongue were blackened and the teeth that you could see through a large pair of holes were melted to pegs. The cat shook his head and stretched his back then hopped down and stood up on his back legs, turned in a circle and became a tall, black-haired and scarred man with one large blue eye, he grimaced, “I do apologize for frightening you, young miss, generally people find the cat easier to stomach upon first meetings.” he turned his head to look at Jaskier, the right ear came to a delicate point, this was an elf, “And yes, I have good taste. Hello, I am known as Ballious the Archive.”

Jaskier stood up immediately and cleared his throat, “Uh, oh! Pleased to make your acquain-”

“I wonder,” Ballious said, tilting his head and regarding Jaskier, “What you meant by ‘ugly old monster’? Have we met?”

Jaskier paled and he opened his mouth several times only to snap it shut, “Um, well, I, er, may have heard, uh, a song or two that mentioned you-”

“Oh?” Ballious’s eye widened and his ear flicked slightly forward, “There are songs about me? Do you know any of the titles?”

Jaskier swallowed and pulled at his neckline, “Uh, er, no, no I can’t seem to recall-”

“What about any lyrics?” Ballious pressed, stepping closer, his expression becoming darker, “Surely, if you are the Maester that wrote that book of poetry, you can recall lyrics from a song that left such a  _ deep  _ impression on you?”

Jaskier’s mouth clamped shut and his heart thundered in his chest as the elf towered over him, the bard was about to squeak out a reply but the elf threw his head back and laughed.

“I-If you could see the l-l-look on your  _ face! _ ” Ballious roared, doubling over and clutching his stomach, he pointed at Jaskier then looked at Ciri who was blinking in just as much confusion as Jaskier, the elf giggled, wiped his disfigured eye which wasn’t leaking at all and stood up, “Oh, goodness, no, my dear, dear poet,  _ I  _ wrote ‘Ballious the Bogtrotter’, ‘Ugly Ballious the Bogtrotter’, and ‘Balli the Bloody Ugly Bogtrotter’. I regret it a bit now but hindsight and all that, not to mention what a good joke it is!” He sighed and moved to his desk, perching on the edge of it and smiling at them, “Forgive my mirth at your expense, the opportunity was too . . .  _ blasus _ .”

Jaskier snorted and shook his head, “Well! Color me surprised, an elf with a sense of humor!” He sighed and lamented their lack of time, “Jokes and introductions then, I’m Jaskier or as you may better know since you enjoy my work, Master Dandelion, and this is-”

“Ciri.” Ciri stepped up, “Sorry I screamed only-”

“Think nothing of it,” Ballious waved a hand dismissively, “I’ve lived a long,  _ long  _ time, Miss Ciri and I’ve come to expect a lot worse. Now then! What brings you to my humble home?” 

“A mutual friend said you could help us,” Jaskier said, getting right to the point, “Ingris, the Seer of Murky Water? She said you were an old friend and you would be able to give us information.”

Ballious was quiet for a moment, his blue eye staring levely at Jaskier then at Ciri then he looked off in the distance for a moment, his lips moving ever so slightly, “ . . . Ingris sent you?”

Jaskier sighed, “Well, she spoke to one of our companions but-”

“Then I will speak to them directly.” Ballious stood up, looking toward the door, “They are not with you?”

Jaskier and Ciri exchanged looks and she reached to take his hand, “We sort of portaled here and don’t know how to talk with them or-”

Ballious blinked his eye then chuckled, “Ah, why didn’t you say as much? Come over here, that’s it, oh mind that stack of- no, it’s alright, just leave them.” 

Jaskier grimaced apologetically at the pile of papers that were slowly falling to the floor, “Not to be rude, but we are sort of in a hurry-”

“Then walk a little faster.” Ballious shrugged and led the way into a backroom where something under a long red curtain stood alone, “I imagine you already can guess what this is.” He muttered and he let Ciri’s hand go to pull the curtain back revealing a floor length, very poorly kept mirror stood, “Now, does this companion have some means of seeing us? That is to say a window, a mirror, a puddle of water, etc.?”

“They should.” Jaskier thought of Yen and all her mirrors and felt something inside constrict.

“Excellent then this should be very simple! Now, you two stand here, yes like that- well, wouldn’t want  _ me  _ to be the first thing they see, eh? That’s it now I want you to visualize them, think very hard about who you want to contact, that’s it. Now repeat this phrase:  _ Aep mire taedh an aep mire me _ . Yes, just practice a bit, the ‘taedh’ is a bit tricky when said fast.”

Jaskier didn’t know how much good him saying the spell would work but Ciri was whispering the words harshly under her breath and staring so intently at the mirror that Jaskier soon chanted with her, holding her hand tightly, until the mirror’s surface turned white as milk then black as ink before it rippled and they were staring out of the mirror above Yennefer’s vanity and there-

“Yen!” Ciri practically screamed, hurrying to the mirror, her hands pressing to the glass.

Yennefer’s head snapped up and she whipped around almost as soon as the image became clear, her violet eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, “Ciri, how are y-” Her eyes watered and she rushed forward, “Jaskier! You’re alive! I had thought-”

“Very nearly, my goddess in black velvet,” Jaskier hurried forward as well, looking Yen up and down and satisfied that she was not injured and in relative good health, “But our little darling here made sure that I remained a member of the living crowd.”

Ciri was pressed to the mirror, her now-green eyes streaming with tears and she hiccuped, “Y-Yen, the lich-”

“Disappeared after you wounded it,” Yen pressed her hands over one of each of theirs as her own eyes got moist, “Cirilla my sweetling, I’m sorry- the portal- I was hit on the head and . . . “ She looked between the two and her makeup was streaming down her face, “You both are grounded when we get to you! You’re staying right where I can see you at all times, you absolute scoundrels!” She pressed her forehead to the mirror, “Can you wait a moment? Geralt . . . needs to see this.”

Jaskier glanced at Ballious who was sitting off some distance to give them privacy and he simply nodded to show it was alright then went back to a book he was scribbling in. The bard nodded to yen, “We can wait.”

“Go get Papa,  _ please _ !” Ciri mumbled into the glass, her face pressed to it so that her long hair fell around and obscured her face.

Yen got up and hurried out of the room, Jaskier glanced back at Ballious, “So . . . you wrote the ballads?”

“I went on an expedition to a bog, something sprayed acid at me and . . . I refused to use magic to fix it,” Ballious shrugged, “I wanted to study the burns and the effect the acid had, curious to a fault I suppose but I did get some fantastic notes on it. Still have no clue what attacked me or if I was attacked at all. Perhaps I stepped on some gas pocket that expelled at me or a plant thought I was lunch? Or worse still, what if I disrupted some poor creature’s nest and they were defending themselves? No, I will keep the face.” He paused and sighed, “I was  _ very  _ young when it happened and very angry at myself, but I was also a broke scholar so . . . In a fit of self-loathing and desperation, I composed the ballad and sold the three versions to three different bards. I made it through the winter and here to my current home on that money.” He sighed, “I’m not offended that the ballads are the only way anyone knows me but . . . I admit I wish I’d been a bit more discreet with some details . . . And that Ingris hadn’t been helping me on it, woman knows words and can spin a cutting insult with the best of the-”

“JASK! CIRI!”

The bard turned and suddenly Geralt’s face and shoulders was obscuring the view into the mirror, the Witcher pressed his hands and forehead to the glass and Jaskier blinked then he quickly picked up Ciri and held her up, “Look! Look, we’re both okay and alive and Ciri has green eyes now but I swear I am more than certain I didn’t have much to do with-”

But Geralt just stared in Jaskier’s eyes and his breath fogged up the glass on his side, “I thought I lost you.” He whispered.

Jaskier put the girl down and licked his lips, “I thought I was lost for a bit there as well.”

“How-?” Geralt frowned in confusion.

“I don’t know, but magic and Ciri were involved.” Jaskier said softly, “We can try and talk later but we are in Dol Blathanna and we found Ballious the Archive and-”

“Hello.” Ballious was suddenly next to them making Jaskier and Ciri both startle, “Who is the one that spoke with Ingris? No, I mean recently, she tends to dabble about in dreams when she’s bored so I wouldn’t put it past her to meet with multiple people- just you, sir? That does make it easier.”

“She’s dead.” Yennefer said softly, coming into focus as Geralt straightened up.

Ballious stopped and blinked then his face became very sad and his eye was distant, “She did warn me . . . said she thought her time was near . . . wonder how much she truly knew? Even in her youth, those white eyes held so much knowledge. We were quite a pair, an ugly-faced elfling that jabbered away and a silent beauty that said nothing unless it was sarcastic.”

Jaskier blinked, “ . . . was Ingris beautiful in her youth?”

“Yes.” Ballious and Geralt said at once then the elf blinked at the witcher, “Did you know Ingris as a girl?”

“Ah, no, she came to me as a maiden in my dream.” Geralt admitted.

Ballious’s eye widened slightly and he muttered something like ‘ _ butain fudr! _ ’ under his breath then threw his head back and laughed, “Oh, my good sir, she  _ liked  _ you! She wouldn’t expend so much energy to appear as her youthful self to just  _ anyone _ .”

Geralt cleared his throat and ducked his head, “She, uh, had a crush on me?”

“Twould seem so.” Ballious wiped away a mirth tear then looked sad again, “If only . . . she was always quicker than anyone . . . gods but I loved her. Anyway! These two lovelies say you had something you wished to ask of me or that Ingris parlayed some kind of information? I’m all ear, as it were.” 

Geralt and Yennefer took it in turns to press to the mirror murmuring quietly to Ciri and explaining the prophecy and the unclear bits to which Ballious listened intently before he ducked out of the room for several minutes then returned with three thick leather volumes. He set them on the floor in front of the mirror, apologizing profusely for the lack of furniture, then he sat down on the floor with the books.

“Court of the Dead . . . Lich Kings . . . Dove of the Morning . . . The Endless . . . Wall of Thorns . . . “ Ballious closed his blue eye and murmured to himself, his fingers tapping on his knee idly.

“Any ringing a be-” Jaskier asked, sitting down while Geralt wrenched the mirror off the wall and set it up so he and Yennefer could sit on the bed with it.

“Shh.” Ballious cracked his eye open slightly, “I’m researching.”

“How?” Ciri asked, finally tearing away from the mirror to glance at the closed books.

Ballious sighed shortly, “I’m called ‘the Archive’ because I remember everything I've ever read. I’m looking into my memories to see if I can recall anything . . . it’s odd, the prophecy does not mention ‘The Endless’ at all but it is repeated several times . . . Court of the Dead I remember from an older tale from before the continent was divided, no I was not alive around them so please refrain from asking. I know a fair bit about Lich Kings though.” He closed his eye for a few more moments then huffed, “Alright,” He flipped open the first book to the middle, the second book to the second page and the third he shoved off to the side without opening, “This is the story of the Court of the Dead, it’s an old legend but it tells of a type of godlike king of death, possibly a wizard or sorcerer of some kind that dabbled in necromancy or it was a king that had a necromancer in his ranks, either way it doesn’t matter. A spell was cast and it says here that The final and first needs ‘the blood of the Dove’ to bring forth a Lich King that has the power to awaken an ancient force called ‘The Endless’ . . . the Wall of Thorns refers to an undead army they will raise I believe.”

Geralt grunted, “So we know almost as much as we did before?”

Ballious cocked an eyebrow, “My expertise is facts, not legends. Now do you want my help defeating them or not? I’ll take by the collective nodding that you do. Lich’s, like any undead, is vulnerable to fire and magical attacks. They are essentially an reanimated corpse that can use magic, only magic-wielders can be made into lich’s although it says that because they are dead, they need an outside source to draw magic from.”

“Can it be any source of magic?” Yennefer asked, brow furrowed, “I’m a Sorceress, let’s say they capture me, can they use me for such purposes?”

“Certainly, how much blood do you have?” Ballious cocked his eyebrow, “You’d be enough to sustain a lich for a while maybe, I don’t know your abilities, but for the Lich King reserved for the Dove, a thousand of you would not be enough, the source, the conduit, is a lightning rod of magic, not only can it be used to draw great swathes of energy from but it can be used to draw magic from life itself, draining and destroying anything or anyone in the area.”

“That’s why they’re hunting me . . . “ Ciri whispered, leaning on Jaskier.

Jaskier swallowed, “So . . . what are our options?”

Ballious blinked, “Haven’t a clue,” He said then he grimaced apologetically, “Liches are so rare these days and the rituals are so complex, taboo as well . . . Any writings are either closely guarded or destroyed.” The elf tapped his chin thoughtfully then looked at Geralt, “Tell me, Witcher, where did you find the young lady?”

“We were in some wooded area near Cintra, swampy with birch and aspen . . . “ Geralt shrugged, “It was like a lot of woods. Why?”

“Because Sources aren’t just popped into existence.” Ballious quickly stood and hurried out of the room only to return with a leather wrapped scroll and a large black tome, “Now, don’t quote me but I believe that might be your answer.”

“How do you mean?” Yennefer asked, her brow furrowing.

“Well, there  _ may  _ be a way of reversing the magic and releasing it from Ciri.” Ballious started to flip feverishly through the black tome with one hand while the other was busy unfurling the scroll.

“You can do that?” Ciri asked, cocking her head.

“No, not me,” Ballious chuckled, “I do not have any magical ability . . . but you have quite a few magical companions who may be able to do it.” He was quiet a moment then tapped a page in the book while he rolled the scroll to a specific line of text, “Here! Right here! It says that the blood can be cleansed and the Source freed of their magic but . . . hmm . . . there’s no mention of what to do with the magic or will happen to it once it is cleansed . . . “

“So how do we even attempt this?” Jaskier asked, frowning.

“Let the Source lead you back to her origin, the answer should be there.” Ballious shrugged, “At least, that’s what I speculate. I wish I could be more helpful . . . “

“So,” Yennefer rubbed her eyebrows and leaned back, “So, we somehow have to all meet up, make our way South while avoiding an army of undead and some  _ very  _ determined cursed kings all the way back to a swamp to look for Ciri’s ‘birthplace’? While also racing against time as they search out the King of Death?”

Ballious blinked then shrugged, “I suppose so? I’m a scholar, madam, I can show you the texts and help you arrange a plan but I do not know anything outside of the books. I’m sorry.” 

“Okay!” Ciri hopped up suddenly, going to the mirror, “How should we do this? Can you portal us to you or should we start walking? Or can you portal here?”

Yennefer considered then sighed, “We’ll have to come to you, after the attack, I don’t want you anywhere near Temeria for a long time. Ballious?”

The elf’s ear twitched, “Yes?”

“Would you be so kind as to help our bard and Ciri arrange lodgings? Somewhere safe.” Yennefer fidgeted and cleared her throat, “We can pay you-”

“Oh think nothing of it, they can stay here with me. I have plenty of room and if not then I can just sing the tree to make room! Besides, I wouldn’t say no to some company, especially Master Dandelion who’s poetry has helped pass time in the past. A pity you didn’t bring an instrument with you . . . “

Jaskier blushed and ducked his head modestly, “My lute was left behind unfortunately.”

“Ah, well we shall get you a new one!” Ballious’s face brightened up some and he got to his feet, waving to Yennefer and Geralt, “You need not worry about a thing, my home is very safe.”

Geralt exchanged a look with Yennefer then he cleared his throat, “We’d like to speak to Jask and Ciri alone, please.”

Ballious gathered his books then bowed out of the room leaving the bard and girl in the room with the mirror. Jaskier stood and pressed his hands to the glass, “ . . . I’m so sorry. You were probably worried sick and-”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Yennefer said softly, her eyes trained on Jaskier’s torso, “ . . . and you are alright?”

“Better than, actually.” Jaskier nodded, putting an arm around Ciri’s shoulders, “Good thing my good luck charm came with me or I don’t think I’d . . . be here.”

Ciri hugged Jaskier tightly around the waist and looked up at Geralt and Yennefer, “ . . . hurry to us, I’m afraid and . . . I keep remembering things . . . horrible things . . . “

Geralt frowned, “We’ll come as quick as we can, Ciri, they won’t surprise us again, I promise.”

“Keep each other safe too, hm?” Jaskier said, looking hopefully up at them.

“We will.” Yennefer promised, her hand sliding into Geralt’s, “See you soon.”

“Bye.” Ciri bit her lip as the mirror became a mirror again then she pressed her face into Jaskier’s side and cried.

Jaskier quickly picked her up, only grunting a bit with the effort, and held her tightly, shushing her softly, “I know . . . I know . . . I’m here and they’ll be here soon too, I promise.”

“I just . . . I want it to b-be done! I wa-want t-to go to Kaer Morhen and I want t-to learn magic from Yen and I want t-to hear you s-s-sing again. I don’t want to fight liches and go back to the b-b-beginning!” She sobbed into his shoulder, her hands gripping into his shirt tightly.

Jaskier sat slowly down on the floor, cradling the girl in his lap while stroking her hair and rocking, “I don’t want to do any of that either, believe me, but when everything is done, we’ll go on a long vacation, I’ll show you Oxenfurt where I give lectures and Yen will show you the mage school and Geralt will take you to the Witcher fortress and you can whack and hack at training dummies until your blue in the face! We’ll do whatever you want, I promise. Just be strong a little while longer for me until they get here then we’ll figure it out.” He kissed the top of her head, his own eyes stinging, “You’re a brave, brave girl, Cirilla Fiona . . . Shh my clever bodkin shhshh, I’m here . . . “

After Ciri settled, Jaskier led the way out of the room to the sitting area where Ballious was busy making tea, he smiled brightly and offered them honeyed oatcakes and berries with their tea and for a brief moment, things felt normal and they laughed, Ballious told stories and Jaskier sang to the accompaniment of the elf’s flute. It was a safe place, a sanctuary while they awaited the coming darkness and danger. Ciri looked out one of the windows and she could see the moon rising full and fat as a silver coin and she knew, time was running out.


End file.
